


Ohana

by Evil_Little_Dog



Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Post-Canon, Prompt Fill, Series Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 12:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Family is what you make of it.<br/>Disclaimer:  If I were a part of Flying Glass of Milk, or Fuse, I’d probably be a lot more well-off than I am.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ohana

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).



When you’re a spy, and you get burned, you don’t expect a lot of help. Any, really. You don’t expect to wash up in your home town, where your Mom still lives. You don’t expect to find your ex-girlfirend, the one who loves C-4 and guns nearly as much as she cared about you, in residence. You don’t expect the ex-Navy SEAL buddy to pop up out of the woodwork. You just don’t expect it. And maybe, you don’t want it. But, in just a little while (you’ll never say how soon), you realize you _need_ this. You need the bickering, and the explosions, and the chain-smoking cigarette haze. You need the mojitos, and the beers, and the fine wine, just like you need the new personality each week, catered to the job you’re doing. You need that underdog spy you got burned, and you need Larry to remind you, no matter how crazy you got, you should never, ever, get that insane. You need the screw-up little brother, and the assholes, and somewhere, along the line, you realize the CIA as not as upright and outstanding a group as the people who’ve had your back, ever since you arrived in Miami, burned. 

You think about that as you flip the turn signal in your rental car. It’s been three long years since you’ve returned to the United States. You wanted to make sure your aliases were intact and solid, despite who you got them from. You wanted to make sure people believed you and Fi were dead, really, really dead. Charlie’s disappearance was easier; people thought he’d blown up, too, in that explosion at your Mom’s old house. No one who knew what’d actually happened would dissuade that belief. 

It isn’t Miami, but it is Florida – the Happiest Place on Earth, and Orlando, Florida, had a lot of things going for it, as people who could possibly be on the run – tourists and travelers from all over the world coming into the Orlando Airport daily (you’d considered Sanford, less than an hour north, or even Daytona, but both were considerably smaller, and your Irish passports might get some questions). 

You buy tickets for the park – outrageous, after paying almost a third that amount to just be able to park your car – but you’d promised Charlie, and he leads you and Fi inside the gates, insisting on a monorail ride. You agree, but scan the area anyway; checking out various escape routes and where the undercover security hung out, and spotted a man in a Hawaiian shirt and cotton pants, standing with another guy who wore a polo shirt and nice jeans. 

You feel your mouth twitch up, and you nudge Fi, and nod toward the two men. She turns, and her own reaction is more evident – Fi’s not one for hiding her emotions, after all. “Charlie,” she says, putting her hands on the boy’s shoulders, “look over there – do you see those two men? Do you remember them?” 

He’d been so young, and it was three years ago, but he frowns, then looks back up at both of you. “That’s Unca Sam and Unca Jesse, right?” 

Before either of you can even get an answer out, the two men are almost close enough to touch. Fi takes the first step, leaping over to hug both men, nearly knocking them over in her enthusiasm. Sam laughs, and says, “Watch it, sister!” while Jesse just hugs her back, saying, “Oh, I missed you.” 

“We missed you, too,” Fiona said, wiping her eyes. She kisses both their cheeks, and grabs their hands as she turns back to Charlie and you. 

Charlie stiffens a little under your hand, turning shy all of a sudden, when confronted with two big men, but you rumple his hair, and he remembers his manners, and offers his hand to Sam, who looks a little less threatening than Jesse. “Hi, Unca Sam.” 

Sam squats down and takes Charlie’s hand, giving it a shake. “I don’t get a hug?” At Charlie’s shy smile, Sam sweeps him up, spinning him around. Charlie bursts out in a laugh and you turn to Jesse. 

“My man,” Jesse says, grinning, and you let yourself go – you hug him, and then Sam passes Charlie to Jesse, like he was an American football, and Sam envelops you in a hug. 

“Missed you, brother,” he says in your ear. 

“You have no idea,” you say back. 

And Charlie says, “Can we ride rides now?” from his perch in Jesse’s arms, and you smile and nod, and your smile just gets bigger when Fi grabs your hand, and Sam’s, and Jesse swings Charlie up on his shoulders. And a park attendant sees you, and asks if you want a group photo. 

Everyone looks at everyone else, and you are the one who decides: “Yeah. We should.” So you cluster together, Fi and Charlie in front, and you between Sam and Jesse, all of you touching and grinning like fools, and the attendant says, “Everyone _smile!_ ”. 

You realize, as the camera snaps, this is your family; little and broken, but still so damned good. And you’re never letting go again.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Prompt:** ensemble, "This is my family. I found it all on my own. It's little and it's broken, but it's good. Yeah. Still good." From rise_your_dead.


End file.
